


by the time i'm dreaming

by dogyeom



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, sorry if this sucks i'm not an expert on law n stuff, verkwan mentioned very very briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogyeom/pseuds/dogyeom
Summary: jeonghan is always on time for work. until he's not.





	by the time i'm dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> this is so terrible i'm sorry

.

 

“It’s not like Jeonghan to be late.”

 

Wonwoo looked up from where he was pretending to be working on decorating the menu board for the new season. Seokmin was leant over the counter, his head resting in his hands as he stared at the clock above the door. 

 

“We don’t open for another half an hour. He’ll be here.” Wonwoo shrugged and returned his eyes to the blank board. 

 

“I can’t remember the last time he was the last of us to turn up to work.” Seokmin said as if he hadn’t heard Wonwoo’s words. 

 

“He went out last night,” Wonwoo explained, he picked up a pink piece of chalk and began to draw large petals on the corner of the board. “With Joshua and that other guy they’re friends with. Seung… kwan?”

 

“Seungcheol.” Seokmin confirmed. “Seungkwan is Vernon’s boyfriend.”

 

“Right, Seungcheol. He told me the three of them were going clubbing. He probably slept through his alarm.”

 

Seokmin sighed heavily and pushed himself off the counter. “Whatever. I don’t think we’ll be busy today.”

 

“Hope so.” Wonwoo murmured. He scrubbed at the pathetically drawn daisy with a piece of tissue, huffing. “ _ Fucking chalk _ .”

 

.

 

Seokmin dramatically slammed the door when he burst out of the break room an hour later. “Where the fuck is he?”

 

“I think there’s something wrong.” Wonwoo rung his apron with his hands, a nervous habit. Seokmin recognised it from when the cafe was stuffed with people and Wonwoo felt overwhelmed. “He won’t pick up his phone. He’s never late and he’s never been sick or hungover without telling us.”

 

“Did you ring Joshua?”

 

Wonwoo nodded. “He hasn’t seen him.”

 

“I thought they went out last night? Did he know if he got home or not?”

 

“Josh said they didn’t go clubbing. He hasn’t seen Jeonghan.”

 

Seokmin braced himself against the counter. It wasn’t busy. In fact, no one had come into their boxy little cafe since they flipped the  _ open _ sign. He had no reason to be stressed about being one man down, but Jeonghan’s absence was unsettling. 

 

“I don’t think Jongin would mind if we closed up. We finish early on Sunday anyway. We should go to Jeonghan’s apartment and make sure he’s OK.”

 

Seokmin nibbled at his lip, taking to staring at the clock instead of Wonwoo as the elder talked. “Fine. You lock up. I’ll bring my car round.”

 

.

 

It took them a while to drive to Jeonghan’s. He lived in…  _ well _ \- a shitty apartment complex, quite a few miles from the cafe the three of them worked in. Seokmin had tried (and failed) so many times to convince Jeonghan to move in with him in the flat above the cafe that he rented from Jongin, the owner of the cafe. 

 

Jeonghan lived on the tenth floor and Wonwoo and Seokmin were silent as they rode the elevator up. The eldest boy’s door resided at the end of the corridor, where Seokmin and Wonwoo could see it as soon as the stepped out of the lift. 

 

“Well, he hasn’t been broken into. I guess that’s a good sign.” Seokmin noted. 

 

Wonwoo hummed. When they reached the flat, Seokmin knocked three raps against the wood. No response. He knocked twice, three times, to silence. He reached for the door handle. It clicked open. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Wonwoo breathed. 

 

Jeonghan’s living room looked like a hurricane had gone through it. His coffee table was turned over, smashed ceramic and books scattered across the floor, brown stains seeping into the carpet. Even the cushions decorating his sofa had been torn open, fluff and feathers spilling out onto the pleather. 

 

“Jeonghan?” Seokmin called out. His voice had a shake to it. “ _ Jeonghan _ ?!”

 

“Check his bedroom,” Wonwoo spoke so quietly Seokmin barely caught it. 

 

Seokmin moved to Jeonghan’s bedroom door as Wonwoo made his way slowly to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and he gingerly pushed it all the way open. The bathroom was perfectly together, no signs of an intruder who went to the lengths of tearing through cushion cases. Skincare products, shaving cream and such alike were scattered across the sink and shelf above but Wonwoo knew Jeonghan was unorganised. 

 

When Wonwoo exited the bathroom Seokmin was stood statue-still in the centre of the living room, his face as pale as a sheet. 

 

“Seokmin, wh-”

 

“Call the police.” 

 

“Seokmin, what… Where’s Jeonghan?” Wonwoo reached for his phone anyway, despite Seokmin refusing to explain. 

 

“Call the fucking police, now. Somebody killed Jeonghan.” 

 

. 

 

Jeonghan had been stabbed around twenty times and his throat had been slit. Seokmin walked into his bedroom to find his body, starfished across the bed and drenched in blood. He relayed everything that had happened from them leaving the cafe to the police outside of Jeonghan’s apartment complex. It was a warm April day but both Seokmin and Wonwoo were cold. 

 

From that moment, it was chaos. Wonwoo and Seokmin were practically camping in the police station. Discovering a crime scene practically made them witnesses, and the police had them in and out of questionings to clarify and re-run the same drilling, to ensure that they’d caught every little,  _ miniscule _ detail. Some officers and a detective had taken them both back to the apartment to help them examine and recall their story for the billionth time, but Wonwoo had grown pale and almost fainted against Seokmin at the sight of Jeonghan’s blood covered bed. 

 

After two weeks, Wonwoo had taken to locking himself in his own apartment, completely immune to Seokmin’s desperate attempts at coaxing him out of the cave. Of course, Jongin had let them both off from work until they felt fit enough to return. Seokmin felt himself going crazy - sat on his own in his living room, drinking way too much coffee, knowing Wonwoo hadn’t left his bed in days. 

 

Seokmin found himself outside his door one night, way too late, and after knocking for what felt like half an hour to no answer he barged through Wonwoo’s unlocked door. Said boy was completely knocked out on his couch, drool across his face and a beer hanging from his fingers. 

 

Seokmin kicked at his legs. “Wonwoo, wake the fuck up.”

 

Wonwoo groaned, the half empty beer threatening to drop onto his white carpet before Seokmin saved it. 

 

“Get the fuck up, Wonwoo. It’s half eleven in the morning.”

 

With a sigh, Seokmin took a long swig from Wonwoo’s bottle as the elder rolled into a sitting position for Seokmin to join him on the sofa. 

 

“I’m going to the station again today. They wanna get me to talk to a new detective they’re bringing on. It’d be good if you could come to.” 

 

Wonwoo doesn’t say a thing. Seokmin wanted to ring his neck.

 

“You know, it fucking sucks. Having to relay the same fucking story to people every day, having to actually get up out of bed and do shit. It fucking sucks. It hurts. Feels like someone is fucking punching me repeatedly in the chest with an iron glove.”

 

Wonwoo kept silent, staring ahead at his living room wall with a look that had no life behind it. 

 

“Jeonghan has a family. You know they were close? Him and his parents, his little sister… they were all close. He loved them so much. And his friends… Seungcheol, Joshua, Nayeon… He had so many people that he loved more than anything, who loved him. You wouldn’t even know, when have you ever showed an ounce of interest in Jeonghan’s life? When have you ever even had a good fucking word to say about h--”

 

“What the  _ fuck _ are you talking about?”

 

Seokmin’s jaw clenched painfully as the older boy finally made eye contact. “Everytime I close my eyes I see Jeonghan’s face. I hear his voice. When I go into my apartment he’s there sat in the kitchen... or in front of my TV. When I’m in that fucking interrogation room I see him through the window, watching me.”

 

“Please leave, Seokmin.”

 

“He was my best fucking friend.” Seokmin was crying. Wonwoo wanted to throw up. “My best friend in the whole world. I loved him so much.”

 

Wonwoo stared at his mouth as Seokmin spoke. Each word felt like it was being carved into his skin.

 

“I’m going to the police station.” Seokmin stood up, suddenly finding composure after his outburst. “Are you coming with me?”

 

Wonwoo didn’t say a word. Seokmin scoffed. 

 

“Thought as much.”

 

.

 

Seokmin was introduced to another stuck-up looking man in an ugly, ostentatious coat as he was bustled into another stuffy, box-room for another draining interrogation. He still had to wipe the sweat off his hands on his trousers, despite this being the  _ god-knows-which _ time he was sat in a chair in front of three men trying to intimidate him. 

 

“We just want to rehash everything since we have new people on the case. It’s best to hear from you as the witness to get the facts straight.” One of them explained. Seokmin didn’t care to remember their names.

 

“Do you mind just answering any questions as we give them to you?” Another one asked. Seokmin nodded. 

 

“Perfect. Start wherever you feel comfortable Mr. Lee.”

 

Seokmin took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a monologue that he’d rehearsed a thousand times. “That night, me and my coworker Wonwoo drove to Jeonghan’s apartment. He didn’t answer the door, but it was open so we went in. The living room was completely ransacked. I went into his bedroom while Wonwoo checked the rest of the apartment. That’s when I found his body.”

 

“Did you immediately call the police?”

 

“I left his room as soon as I saw all the blood and told Wonwoo to call the police. I didn’t have my phone with me.”

 

The police nodded, almost in unison. Seokmin felt uncomfortable. “Did you see any signs of cause of death on the body before you left?”

 

“No,” Seokmin sighed, his wanted to drop his head in his hands and cry. Instead, he steeled himself - making damn sure to keep eye contact with the police officers. “I just saw blood. Everywhere. The police told us when they arrived that he bled to death.”

 

“I see,” the man who he was introduced to today spoke up. “Mr Lee, when talking about the discovery of the crime you referred to it as ‘that night’, but we were under the impression that Mr. Yoon’s body was discovered at 10:45 AM?”

 

Seokmin felt every muscle in his body seize. “Oh… did I? Sorry…”

 

“Mr. Lee, have you been drinking?”

 

“N-no.” Seokmin coughed. He could feel himself panicking. “I only had a bit, not even a whole drink.”

 

“Where is Jeon Wonwoo right now?” 

 

“He’s… in his apartment. I went by there on my way here and asked him to come.”

 

“Lee Seokmin. We need you to tell us the truth. What happened when Jeon Wonwoo came to your apartment on the 1st of May?”

 

“Wh-” One of the men pushed a sheet of paper across the table towards him. Seokmin took one look and felt bile lurch in his throat. A grid of four shots. They were blurred and poor quality but Seokmin could recognise himself and Wonwoo in the corridor of his apartment building. 

 

“Just tell us why Wonwoo was at your apartment. What happened that night and what happened the day that Yoon Jeonghan was found dead. If you don’t, we will arrest you. And don’t bother lying. We already know you can’t do that.”

 

Seokmin closed his eyes and hoped to nothingness that he was dreaming, begging to wake up. When he didn’t, he took a gulp and prayed Hell would spare him. 

 

“Wonwoo came to my flat and told me that he’d been to see Jeonghan.”

 

The detective leant back in his chair. The two police officers next to him were alert as Seokmin spoke almost monotonously, as if he was a tape being played back. 

 

“Jeonghan and I were… um. We were sleeping together. Wonwoo knew, he… didn’t like it, I guess. When he came to my flat, he was drunk and he kept telling me that he loved me and that Jeonghan was trying to…  _ steal me away from him _ or some bullshit… I don’t know. When I got him to drink some water, he told me that they’d fought. Badly. And Wonwoo… pulled a knife on him. He said he didn’t mean to, he said it was an accident. Jeonghan had tried to calm down and take the knife back but Wonwoo thought he was attacking him so he stabbed him.”

 

Seokmin looked away from the detectives, suddenly feeling the urge to vomit. “He told me that he panicked and dragged him to the bed before slitting his throat and waiting for him to bleed out. That’s when he left and came to mine. I guess he got rid of the knife on the way.”

 

“I don’t know why I helped him,” Seokmin hadn’t realised that one tear had made its way down his cheek until it reached his lip and he tasted the salt. “I really don’t know… I loved Jeonghan. I don’t know why I helped that asshole. I’m sorry.” 

 

Seokmin blacked out after that. The police were speaking to him but he wasn’t listening. Words like  _ accessory to murder _ were whistling through one ear and out the other. He was dragged out of the interrogation room and into another as more men spoke more words to him.

 

As he was escorted down the hallway of the police station, an officer on each side of him, he saw Jeonghan stood at the end. A blond-haired angel, smiling. His arm outstretched as they came closer, an offering.  _ Seokmin, come closer. Come to me.  _

 

“OK, Jeonghan. I’m coming.”

 

.

  
  



End file.
